


Mean

by MusicalMelody001



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Issues, High School, Sibling Rivalry, bad with words, new kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalMelody001/pseuds/MusicalMelody001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabelle just transferred over to Ouran Academy, and isn't exactly looking forward to a new school. Or, she is, but she isn't looking forward to what her pessimistic half says is going to happen when she gets there. Over the course of time, Annabelle's learned not to get too close to anyone - they always leave. It doesn't matter how good her intentions, she always ends up making everything worse. So, with another school about to be added to her long list, she tries once again to put her 'best foot forward', if she only could just figure out which one that is.</p><p>"I don't try to insult people, it just seems to work out that way. It doesn't matter what I do, I always end up hurting someone. I don't mean to be so… mean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starting

"Anna!"

"Anna! You're going to be late for school!"

I hear my mom's voice through the floor, and start rushing out of my room. It was hard to balance my backpack with this giant poofy uniform, but I supposed I would get used to it eventually.

"I'm coming!" I shout, racing my way down the stairs, hoping to god I don't trip. My high-heeled Mary Janes made a rhythmic thump-thump-thump pattern on the carpeted steps and somehow miraculously managed not to catch on my ankle-length dress. Normally this fact alone would convince me that I was in some sort of alternate universe, but I was too busy rushing to marvel at my sudden lack of incoordination.

I stopped in the front area…. or whatever you are supposed to call that giant empty space near the front door that serves no apparent purpose. (Foyer?) My mom was waiting for me by the front door, holding a breakfast bar in her hand because she knows me ever-so well.

"Anna," she says, "Have a nice day at school. Talk to some kids, make some friends, and please - _please -_ try not to get into trouble?" She looks at me with a hopeful yet motherly expression, her voice getting higher at the end of her request.

I take the breakfast bar from her hand. "I'll try, Mom."

The car out front beeps, a sound I've become accustomed to, telling me that I'm late again and should start booking it if I want to get to my destination on time.

"Bye, love you!" I shout over my shoulder, barging through the front door. I get in the back of the car and shut the door all in one fast-paced fluid motion, trying not to tip over as I sit without slowing down. I started eating my breakfast bar on the way to school, making my mouth dry and hopefully not getting any crumbs on my dress.

When we arrive, I get out of the car and grab my bag. I brush off my giant obstacle challenge otherwise known as a uniform and look down to make sure nothing about my appearance is out of place. Satisfied - or, rather, coming short of anything immediately fixable, - I run a hand over my hair and head inside.

* * *

I stood outside the classroom door for the longest time - although in reality it was probably only a few seconds. A couple minutes at the most. I was trying to build up enough courage (or, failing that, enough blind stupidity,) to go inside. I was given a schedule, which currently resided in my left hand. My right was holding on to the strap of my backpack with a tight grip. The paper said I was to be in class 1-A, the same thing that was inscribed on the panel next to the door.

Berating myself for being a wimp and not just going inside already, I force myself to open the door and walk in.

It was all depressingly anticlimactic.

When the teacher looked over I hushedly told her that I was a new student and that I would be starting today in her class. I have no idea why I whispered it, maybe it was because I was discussing something with her rather than the whole class and was trying to be respectful. Either way, it hadn't seemed to backfire yet. Then again, I might just need to give it a few seconds.

The teacher then introduced me - sort of. She told the class that I was a new student, that they should try and help me out, show me around, etc. etc. like every other teacher that felt the need to say anything more than "What's your name?" and "Go sit down."

I introduced myself as 'Anna', because if you don't tell the teachers what you go by right off the bat, they'll call you by the name on your paperwork every day and it will take both of you forever to figure out who they're addressing during roll-call. If they did that sort of thing here - I'm not sure. I've been to a lot of schools, and not all of them did. However, this was the fanciest school I'd ever been to. I only hoped I wouldn't screw up as bad here as some of my other schools. I had long ago lost count. Maybe because I couldn't count that high back then.

I sat down at the appointed seat, (Quite a feat with this dress, let me tell you. Luckily I had gotten some practice on the drive here. This thing was just so _poofy!_ ) and sat awkwardly for a moment before the class started to resume again. Apparently they were in the middle of a Science lesson. My luck seemed to be going pretty well this morning, so this could go either way. Then again, you know what happens whenever you start to mention your good luck. Life just has to go in and ruin it.


	2. Backgrounds

Eventually class ended and it was time for lunch. I pulled my lunch bag out of my backpack. (Because you never really knew what to expect on the first day.) Almost immediately I was approached by a couple girls.

"Hey, Anna," the one in front asked, the other two choosing to flank behind her off to the sides, "Want to come eat lunch with us?"

I looked at each of them for a second. _Eh… It couldn't hurt, could it?_ I faced the first girl again before giving my answer. "Uh….. sure."

_Eloquently put, genius._

I trailed behind the trio down the halls, turning at seemingly random points until we reached what seemed to be a cafeteria.

"This is the cafeteria." The one on the left said.

_Yes, I was right!_

I followed them to a table, sitting down in the chair they designated. They went to go get their food and I opened my lunch bag. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some chips, accompanied with a canned soda. Yesterday I just randomly had a craving for peanut butter so I decided to make it for my lunch. It was my default packed lunch option.

A bit later the girls came back, each holding expensive looking trays that made me feel like they would fall and shatter at any moment. I wasn't even sure what half the food on their plates were, but I'll tell you one thing - it wasn't anything as simple as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I think one of them had gelato, but then again I had never had or seen gelato before, so it was just a wild guess.

They each sat down, giving my lunch a speculative glance but choosing not to say anything. Soon they started asking me questions. Where did I live? (In town.) What school did I transfer from? (A high school.) What did I think of Ouran? (That I had been here for less than one day.)

I started fiddling with the sleeves on my dress; they were starting to bother me.

"Is there something wrong with your uniform?" the one on the left asked.

I looked at her. "No, I'm just not used to this kind of thing. I usually wear t-shirts and jeans, so I'm not adjusted to this outfit yet. I mean, this skirt is so _big._ "

Her eyes lightened. "What do you think of the uniform?"

_It could use some adjustments._

"I hate it."

_You're an idiot._

Their smiles dimmed, shock evident in their eyes as they slowly blinked.

I tried to elaborate and redeem myself. "What I meant to say was, almost everybody looks completely terrible in yellow."

_Just shut up already!_

They stayed silent for a moment, and we all sat awkwardly like that for the rest of lunch. Eventually we finished our meals and went back to class, the three girls staying slightly further away from me than they did on our walk to the cafeteria. Then again, I was kind of expecting it.

* * *

When school ended - in attempt not to repeat the lunch mishap - I went straight outside and waited for my car, then headed home. Once I got there, I quickly dropped my stuff in my room and walked to the opposite part of the house.

Opening the door to my step-brother's room, I casually walked over and collapsed on the bed. He didn't even look up, now accustomed to my ways, and only continued to type on the computer at his desk across the room.

"How was school?" Ichiro asked, not turning around.

"Same as usual," I replied, shifting positions so I could face in his direction.

"What are you up to?" I inquired, ever the oblivious cat in search for that which piqued my curiosity.

"Stuff," he replied.

A few minutes passed in silence, nothing happening as we both sat there to our own thoughts. (Or lack of thought, as my case was. I was currently staring at the ceiling.)

Eventually I went to my room and got my laptop, returning to Ichiro's room to sit back down on his bed and read my email. We stayed like that for a while, before I ended up going to my room, taking my laptop with me. (But forgetting my shoes in his room, again.)

I changed into a t-shirt and some pajama pants, pretty much the only thing I wore around the house. It wasn't like I actually went anywhere after I go home. I lay on my bed, laptop supported by my giant mountain of pillows, and proceeded to read fanfiction online. That was pretty much how I spent most of my free time.

Eventually my little sister Yoshiko came home, and twenty bucks says that she raided the pantry for all the junk-food she could find, then proceeded to eat it all in one sitting in the living room before our parents get home. Who am I kidding? If anyone were stupid enough to make that bet, they'd lose twenty bucks. That's exactly what she did every day. Lord only knows how she stays skinny.

When I was seven my mom married again, having another kid a year or so later. I went to being an only child to the middle child in a little over 15 months. My step-brother Ichiro is two years older than me, and my little sister Yoshiko is younger than me by eight. Not much has changed after that, other than the random moving we did every so often, or the switching of schools that I did slightly more often. Nothing else really changed. All in all, we were all pretty boring.


	3. Nightly Routine

Around eight o'clock or so we were called down for dinner. Ichiro, Yoshiko and I sat at the large dining table, clustered near the end. Ichiro and Yoshiko were eating something that I _think_ was called chawanmushi, but I'm not sure. Despite living in various parts of Japan for the last nine years or so, I still hadn't grown accustomed to their cuisine. There were a few that I liked, but even then I could never seem to learn their names correctly.

I was sitting across from them, my legs crossed kindergarten-style in the chair, eating an american microwave meal. They weren't as easy to come by in Japan as they were in America, but I still loved them none the less. My mom and I would have them a lot when I was little, and I got addicted. It didn't help that I found most of the japanese food scary-looking. Or that I didn't like fish. Every once in a while I'd try to convince them to try some western meals - how I missed chicken fried steak - but they normally weren't very open to it.

I still remember the time I tricked them into eating spicy jambalaya. They were wary of rice for a while after that. It was hilarious. I mean, yeah, I felt kinda bad about it, but they should really learn to be more open to new experiences on their own, that way I wouldn't be forced to make them live a little. I mean, we had sushi _every day_ that week. And as I've mentioned _multiple_ times before, _I don't like fish_.

Yeah, somehow that makes me weird.

But I'll pack away shrimp with the best of them.

Right now I was enjoying a very nice _italian_ meal. Microwave lasagna, to be precise. I don't know how my mom survives eating here, we used to have italian food a few nights a week back in America. But then again, she's rather fond of fish.

_Weird._

I wondered what she would be eating tonight. Maybe I'd ask her when I see her in the morning, if I get up early.

I took a sip of Coca-Cola, the room practically silent other than the sound of eating. I wince at a particularly loud and messy-sounding slurp from Yoshiko. I don't care if it's considered good manners here or not, I agree with the westerners; it's just simply an unpleasant sound.

I don't really see much of my mom anymore, and I never really saw much of Yutaka in the first place. Or… how was I supposed to refer to him? I forget. I don't know how, but in the estimated nine years or so that I've lived in Japan, I've learned little to nothing, compared to everything I managed to absorb in my seven years in America. Maybe I just liked America better. It was certainly less confusing.

Finished with my food, I get up and throw my trash away in the kitchen, taking the rest of my soda. Yeah, I'm pretty much sure this is considered rude in any country. Whatever, I really didn't feel like sitting there bored listening to cringe-worthy slurping and silence. Besides, I was pretty sure they didn't take offense. I do that every night, they should be used to it by now.

* * *

Hours later I was in bed on my laptop. Big surprize, huh? I had started to get bored with my books a few months ago. Bookshelves took up two of the four walls in my bedroom, all stuffed to the brim with various hardbacks, paperbacks, novels and novellas. I go through books rather quickly, so around the fifth time I read a book it starts to loose its charm. That's the point where it will stay on the shelf untouched, until I randomly think of a small part of the story, and decide to read it again.

But recently I had taken to reading online fanfiction. It was free to read, faster, and there was a much wider variety available at any given time. However, a downside to this was that I couldn't just take it to read wherever I wanted, seeing as I didn't have an actual physical copy in my hand.

I also read online versions of actual books. If I really like one though, sometimes I would order it for my shelf. One of my problems with that was books in series. If I got a third book in the mail, I'd have to go back and read the first and second ones to have the plot fresh in my mind. So by the ninth book, I'd have the first one nearly memorized.

Every once in a while - if I stayed up reading far too long - my eyes would start to sting; like now for example. I closed my eyes, rubbing them for a moment before removing my hands and looking at the clock on my nightstand.

_3:49 AM_

Yeah, I should probably go to sleep now.

But maybe I should check my email one last time before going to bed.

_Yeah right, that's what you said you would do an hour ago._

Well, at least I'm not denying it.

_You're arguing with yourself again, aren't you?_

Man, I need some sleep.

I power down my laptop, putting it back in its hiding spot in a secret compartment in the bottom of my desk before walking back to my bed. I lie down and put my head on my pillow, pulling my blankets around me. I stretch my legs, feeling my feet press against the headboard, doing the same with my arms, which met air. I never liked footboards. Really, what was the point? I always hit my head.

Getting into a comfortable position, I did the last thing on my nightly routine. Remembering to get out of bed and turn on the radio, then go back to bed and lie back down. I don't know why I forgot every night, considering I always slept with music playing. But, whatever. I hugged the pillow under my head and turned on my side, burrowing my face into the soft fabric. Slowly, ever so slowly, I fell asleep.


	4. God Damned Yoshiko

I wake up slowly. It doesn't matter how late or how early I go to bed, getting up always takes a herculean effort to do in under three hours. I look at the clock on my nightstand, slightly askew. (Probably from my restless sleeping.)

_7:00 AM_

Yes, I'm up early!

Now just to get out of bed before the clock says nine...

Still groggy, I get out of bed and throw my covers back on my mattress before walking to the bathroom that opens directly into my bedroom. I open the door, and take a step inside before swearing.

" _God damn it, Yoshiko!_ "

I look down at the ground. One of her seemingly infinite hair baubles was, once again, on the floor. Once again, the said bauble had broken under my foot. I was getting really tired of this.

I turn the light on, and let out another swear.

The bathroom was completely _destroyed!_ The sink was covered in some pink goo, Yoshiko's dirty clothes were strewn about and about a million of her hair accessories were littering the floor more thoroughly and randomly than a freaking military mine-field.

_Jesus Christ_.

How she managed to get the bathroom like this in less than one day both shocked and horrified me.

And, of course, meant that I had to clean it up before I could hope to use the bathroom for its intended purpose.

I shoved all of Yoshiko's clothes into a corner - I'd throw them at her later - and picked up all the visible hair pins, clips, and I don't even know what some of those things were. The sink….. oh, god. I don't even know what that was!

I looked to a bunch of empty bottles in the bathtub.

_Now I do._

After retaining another dose of aggravation, I started pulling the bottles out of the bathtub, hoping to salvage some of the things inside.

My tub was full of everything that _should_ have been in my now-broken cabinet, which was sometimes too high for me to reach, so I had no idea how _she_ got to them.

Hairsprays, detanglers, straightening gels, shampoos, conditioners, soaps, body washes, perfumes; you name it, they were all mixed together going down the drain.

Sometimes I really hated that girl.

A good twenty minutes later - _Great, looks like woke up early for nothing!_ \- I managed to take a quick ten-minute shower using some of the soap and shampoo that had miraculously not been touched, and got out to find the towels missing.

All the towels.

_God damn it, Yoshiko!_

So I quickly went into my room and grabbed a spare that I always kept in case this happened. (Which it did, frequently.)

I got dressed in my new uniform - ignoring the itchiness - and shoved on my shoes while I grabbed my backpack. Running a brush through my hair, I walked down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Just in time to hear Yoshiko's voice say "Mommy, Annabelle made a mess of our bathroom, can I use yours today?"

_The little minx._

"Sure, sweetie, go ahead." my mom replies, and I hear Yoshiko get up and leave the kitchen on the opposite side.

I walk inside the kitchen, putting my bag down in a chair.

"Hi, Mom." She turns around, giving me a displeased look.

"Anna, I thought we talked about this. The bathroom isn't just yours, it's your sister's too. You both _share it._ You can't take up all the space with your things."

When we moved here, my mom thought it would be an amazing idea to give Yoshiko and I adjoining rooms that share a bathroom in the middle. To make us bond and stop fighting, apparently. I don't see how that was supposed to happen seeing as now I'm subject to hours of Yoshiko locking herself in the bathroom and trying to sing at the top of her lungs.

Key word _try._ She had an awful voice. And she knew I hated hearing it, so whenever I tell her to be quiet or that I'm trying to do my homework, she gets louder.

_Little minx._

I take a deep breath. "Alright, Mom." I say, having learned a long time ago that I would never win this battle.

There was a reason Yoshiko had that particular name, and it sure wasn't because she was a "good child".

Her name could also be translated into _favorite._

As in, she got away with _everything._

You get used to it eventually.

I go to the pantry to grab my favorite cereal, what I usually ate for breakfast when I wasn't running late.

I.E., almost never.

I grabbed the box and a bowl, returning to the counter. I open the box to find it…. empty. Not really in the mood to deal with it this morning, I simply throw the box away, not saying a word.

"I swear," my mom says, "Who keeps doing that? How many times do I have to keep telling you kids to throw empty boxes away, and not put them back in the cupboards?"

I look at the half-eaten bowl of cereal on the counter, the cereal gone soggy and all the milk still present in the bowl. Yoshiko's signature.

_I think I know who._

I look at the clock, realizing I am no longer ahead of schedule.

"Bye, Mom. I've got to go. Love you!" I say, grabbing my lunchbox out of the refrigerator on my way to the door, also palming Yoshiko's apple juice from hers. That would be my breakfast.

I grab my backpack and head to the front door, to the car waiting for me. The driver is surprised that I showed up before he had to honk for me, but he says nothing as I open the back door and get inside.

I drink the juice box on the way to school.


	5. Gold, Fate, And Why Meeting People Sucks

I not only miraculously manage to get to school on time, but also get to the correct classroom. I'm fully expecting the apocalypse to come before the end of the day. Little did I know that that's exactly what was about to happen.

According to the clock - if you ever really can trust clocks - we had another ten minutes before class starts. I get my notebook out again and another pen, expecting the same thing that happened yesterday.

Except something else happened.

I looked over to the door, and in that exact moment something miraculous truly occurred.

The world slowed as liquid gold eyes met mine, my breath whooshing out of me like I had just been punched in the gut. Which it felt like, if my gut was my chest. His eyes continued past me, not bothering to linger, but mine stayed.

What a peculiar color.

I had never heard of gold eyes before.

His hair was slightly messy, but in the way that you knew it was intentional, looking as if it hadn't exactly decided if it wanted to be brown, red or orange. He was one-of-a-kind, he had to be.

I was completely unaware of my surroundings as he tuned and walked towards the back of the class. I quickly turned my face to my notebook, trying really hard not to come across like a creepy stalker.

He sat right next to me.

Sometimes I feel like Fate just loves to mess with me, just to see how crappy my life can get before it stops considering things funny.

Obviously it hadn't reached that point yet.

The bell rings and class starts. Or, rather, homerooms starts - if you went by what the boy at the front of the class said.

Not exactly interested by what was being said, I pulled out my sketchbook, and start drawing the female uniform. Yellow monstrosity that it is.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true, but still.

It wasn't the best that they could do, as evidenced by the male uniforms.

Why did the male uniforms have a different color scheme, anyway?

Weird.

The architecture wasn't that bad, though. It kind of reminded me of a pink castle; but with math class.

_Whatever._

I started on the skirt. It took me a few tries to get the shape right; it was much more triangular and bulky at the hips than I would have liked. You could actually _see_ the fabric bunching rather than actually flowing. I erased once again, my last try really close but not exactly what I wanted. Brushing the tiny pieces of eraser off my paper, I started once again, focusing really hard to make sure this time I got it right.

Then my pencil broke in half.

_"Seriously?"_ I whisper-yelled under my breath, garnering attention from the male to my left. With a mental groan and a silent huff, I leaned over to search my bag for another pencil.

Apparently Fate was in a bad mood today.

My back was starting to hurt by the time I found a mechanical pencil without an eraser in the bottom of my school bag. Grateful to not be hunched over anymore, I returned my attention to my desk.

My sketchbook was gone.

I was halfway into starting a mental mini-panic attack when I heard a snicker to my left. Turning, I saw the handsome boy from before holding my sketchbook in his hands. Not exactly at the mental capacity to form words, I try to make a grab for it, but he only holds it further from my reach.

"You're doing it all wrong." He says, giving a distasteful look at my sort-of drawing. "The left and right sides aren't even symmetrical. Where did you learn to draw like _this?"_

"Give it back," I attempt, my voice not anywhere near as confident as my pride would have liked. Even still, I never showed anyone the pictures in my sketchbook, which was why I needed him to _GIVE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!_ The guy had not only taken my sketchbook when I wasn't looking, but he had also insulted my absent doodles. Yeah, I knew they weren't the best, but they're not _that_ bad.

Either way, whenever someone says something derogatory about my stuff my first instinct is to say something right back… although the lack of planning usually makes the words that come out really stupid.

"And who are you to judge? I highly doubt you could do any better." I fire, not exactly making the situation better, looking back.

The boy just gave a smirk, his eyes giving off a glint of…. something. What was it? Although I couldn't pinpoint specifically what it was, my stomach's increasing sense of dread told me it probably wasn't good.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Hikaru Hitachiin, eldest son of Yuzuha Hitachiin, the famous fashion designer."

_Foot, meet Mouth… Again…. I'm sure you two are quite well acquainted at this point._


End file.
